Serue God
thy Lord, delight to keepe his lawes.
Alwayes
, haue care to doe his holy hest.
Commit
not that which may his anger cause.
No euill
, then (deere friend) can thee molest.
Still feare
and minde the dreadfull iudgement day.
To sinne
, breedes death, but mercie doe require,
Defie
such thinges, as worke thy soules decay;
The diuel
, so shall leese his chiefe desire.
If thou
, wilt spend thy dayes in great content.
Praise God
, ech houre, serue him in feare and dread,
With heart
contrite thy former sinnes lament.
And minde
, henceforth a better life to lead
Great ioyes
the Lord (as his pure word doth say)
In heauen
, aboue, for good men hath preparde,
Thy soule
when that this life shall passe away,
Shall finde
such blisse, as cannot bee declarde.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem